The Beloved Dead
by ghost-orchid
Summary: AU piece Myers is a woman & Liz is Hellboy's friend. A mission in Louisiana reveals Myers's past to Hellboy. Based on the movie, not the comics.
1. Message in a Bullet

**Disclaimer: **I still do not own any of the characters from _Hellboy._

**Summary: **Sequel to _Alone Time. _A string of mysterious deaths in Louisiana requires investigation by the BPRD. During the investigation, Hellboy learns about Agent Myers's past and the real reason Professor Broom chose her to be his liaison.

CHAPTER 1–Message in a Bullet

Agent Joanna Myers, recently of the FBI, now attached to the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, was of the considered opinion that things were weird around here. Weirder than usual, she meant, and that was saying something. She didn't really have time to think about it while she suited up for the raid on Mike Tsai's home, but it definitely remained in her mind.

Manning had loaned her out to the FBI for the raid on the Asian crime lord at the request of Special Agent Seth Garrett. He'd been one of her trainers at Quantico and she still kept in touch with him. Of course, since her job at the BPRD was classified she couldn't talk to him about it in any depth and she couldn't mention Hellboy at all, but he knew how frustrated she was with her work there. That was why she had jumped at the chance to participate in the Tsai raid. She would actually be doing what she had been trained to do, not being an appendage to someone who did not need her at all. No matter that Professor Broom had picked her out of the seventy-six graduates of the Academy that year, she still felt essentially useless around the BPRD. Hellboy did not need any partner, and even if he did that wasn't what she was. Hell, she probably spent more of her time bringing him his meals than going on missions with him, and when she did he insisted on keeping her at a distance from the action. Oh, sure, she still managed to ignore his wishes and back him up, but he never expressed any gratitude for it, just anger that she didn't do what he said. Joanna risked her life every time she went into the field with him, but he had no appreciation for it. Maybe that was one reason she felt so much satisfaction as she zipped up the black jacket with FBI in huge white letters on front and back.

Garrett knocked on the door to the back room. "Jo? You decent?"

"Yeah, Seth. Come on in."

He was in his late forties with salt-and-pepper hair worn in a buzz cut. His features were heavy and his nose had been broken more than once, but he projected a sense of solidity and safety that reminded her of Hellboy. "You ready? We'll be ready to go in a few minutes."

"I'm ready. I wanted to tell you thanks for this. It's been so long since I've been along on a–an operation." Damn! She'd almost slipped and said 'a normal operation.' One that involved human criminals, not some slimy demons from Dimension X. Why were they always, always slimy?

He sighed. "You know I begged the higher-ups to let me have you at Behavioral Science, but apparently whoever requested you had a lot more pull than I did."

"Looks like." Joanna took her Browning 9-mm out and began checking the weapon. "But it's not your fault. We all have to take the jobs that are assigned to us."

"It just kills me to see you stuck at the Spook Squad." When she looked up, surprised, he laughed. "The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. Come on, do you really think nobody in the government knows about it? If you've been around long enough, you know it's not just some crackpot urban legend. Agents pull duty there all the time. Nobody ever talks about it, but it's a dog assignment and you'll never get back to Behavioral Science if they really like you there."

She grinned and turned her face away a little. "I cannot confirm or deny that, Special Agent Garrett, based on the National Security Act."

"You always did have a little too much reverence for the rules. Maybe when your year's up they'll reassign you. Getting the Spook Squad's roughly equivalent to pulling the Anchorage office. Why haven't you put in for a transfer yet?"

"Not that I'm saying anything about where I'm assigned, but it wouldn't look good if I couldn't even last a year on my first duty. I'm holding onto the hope that they'll reassign me when my year is up." Behavioral Science had been the only assignment she'd wanted, but the Fates had seen fit to laugh in her face. Still, the thought of leaving the BPRD gave her a pang of discomfort. If she did, she'd never see Hellboy again, except in the grainy, out-of-focus photos the _Weekly World News _printed every time he managed to escape or some shaky amateur video. He could be a huge pain in the ass when he wanted to be, but somehow he had endeared himself to her. Plus, there was the pesky fact that he had been the star of some of the hottest sexual fantasies she'd ever had in her life, which was probably the strangest thing she'd encountered since her transfer. Every man she'd been with before this, and there weren't many, had been _GQ _cover-boy handsome, but Hellboy–well, she wasn't prepared to consider that right now. She had to concentrate on the raid.

Joanna and Garrett went out to the truck where the other agents waited. She spent the drive to Long Island thinking about Hellboy and how mad he was going to be when he found out about this entire business. Manning had not seen fit to tell him that Joanna was going on an FBI raid, probably because no matter what the Head of Special Operations said, Hellboy scared him half to death and he knew what a dim view the demon would take of this. She didn't think for a second that he would actually hurt Manning, but his temper was a sight to see when he lost it. And she knew he would when he found out.

Tsai's house was in a gated community on Long Island. He lived there with his wife and four children, a few assorted uncles and aunts, and his parents. All his neighbors apparently thought he was some electronics genius who worked for a computer company, but his real business was drugs, with dollops of loan sharking and prostitution thrown in. He'd ordered the torture-murder of an FBI agent who'd infiltrated his organization several years ago, and one of the men who'd carried it out had turned state's evidence. The raid had been timed for lunch, when they knew his children would be at school. All the streets approaching Tsai's mansion had been blocked off by police cars and FBI agents. Garrett ordered the agents out of the transport van and briefed them on who did what before they moved into position. The house looked quiet, like any other suburban home, no patrolling guards with Uzis. For that they were lucky.

Joanna heard the front door splinter as the battering ram took it down. Simultaneously agents hit every door and swarmed the house. Garrett might have asked for her to come on the raid, but like Hellboy he wanted her protected as much as possible, which was why she was in the back of the first group through the front door. Through the shouts of "FBI! Don't move," she heard a gunshot. Her grip tightened on her Browning as her team swept the foyer. Suddenly automatic weapons fire chattered from the second floor, chipping the marble of the floor around them. Two agents went down with screams as the rest of them ran for cover. Other agents in more protected positions returned fire. She felt bullets on her heels as she dove into a room just off the entranceway that they had already checked and bounced off the back wall. She guessed from the furnishings this was a small parlor,. Carefully, her Browning at the ready, she got to the door and looked out just in time to see the upstairs sniper fall over the railing, squeezing off one last burst of bullets from his Uzi before he smashed into the marble floor and began a spastic jerking than gradually stopped. "Regroup!" called out the team leader and she emerged from the parlor.

Garrett and three other agents emerged from what she thought was the dining room, with Mike Tsai handcuffed and bellowing . She lowered her gun arm to her side and sighed a breath of relief. It was all over, the job was done, and now she could get back to the BPRD and try to calm Hellboy down.

But then, like a swamp mist, she heard a voice that, while it emerged from another man's larynx and she knew it was not really him, paralyzed her with shock. The past closed over her head as the man's voice said, with the Cajun accent that she had not known until this moment she remembered so well, "A warning, Ti-Anna."

The bullet hit her in the chest and actually took her off her feet. Shooter must be using a .45, she thought crazily. A second shot followed the first; that one passed through her upper left arm as she was falling. The other agents turned in the shooter's direction and emptied their guns. From where she lay on the floor, she had a good view of him when he fell. One of Tsai's uncles, if her memory served. Odd; he had not been a criminal before this. For a second she must have blacked out, because when she opened her eyes Garrett was leaning over her and a medic was cutting away the arm of her jacket. He put the scissors down and asked, "Agent Myers, answer me. How do you feel?"

She couldn't speak, only gasp for air. The medic turned to Garrett. "That was a dead-on heart hit. The body armor saved her. Bullet knocked the wind out of her, though. The arm's just a flesh wound. She'll heal up in no time."

"Wonder what the hell caused it," Garrett asked. "The uncle was clean. He wouldn't have spent a second in jail. Why did he grab Adler's gun and start shooting? Did you know him, Jo?"

"No," she managed to say while the medic bandaged her arm. No point in telling him about the words she was certain no one had heard except for her. Seth Garrett was a good friend, but she didn't trust him with this. One thing the BPRD had taught her was that most people believed whatever was comfortable for them, and what she had just witnessed was too weird for anyone's comfort, including her own, but she had no choice except to believe.

The voice she had heard belonged to her father.

Late that night Joanna got out ofa yellow taxi in front of the BPRD building, which was disguised as a waste-management firm. The cabbie looked around dubiously, then asked, "You sure you want to be let off here?"

She handed him the fare plus five bucks and nodded. "My brother works here. I'm meeting him for dinner."

After the taxi pulled away, she walked over to the intercom and pressed 103. "What is it?" the voice barked.

Deja vu. The last time she'd heard that had been the first time she'd arrived here, her suitcases strapped to the back of her Vincent Black Shadow motorcycle, her life abruptly derailed from the track she had imagined when she'd joined the FBI. She had not shown it, but she had been royally pissed off. That had been the day she met Hellboy. The voice asked again and she replied, "Agent Joanna Myers."

The retinal scanner snapped out from behind the intercom and flashed in her eye. The photo on her ID suddenly appeared on the video screen and the gates swung open. Today she had no choice but to walk, because with her arm in a sling she couldn't use her motorcycle, so it still sat in the lot in New York. Garrett had promised to drive it down to Newark this weekend, but that still left her with no wheels. That was the least of her problems at the moment, though. The most sizable problem in her future was the big red one waiting for her downstairs at the BPRD. How was she going to get him calmed down?

When she walked into the lobby, the guard standing on the other side of the elevator gave her a wintry smile. "Agent Myers." It sounded like the voice of doom. "I wouldn't be you right now for anything on earth." The painkillers the hospital had heaped on her provided a healthy dose of tranquility, which she started thinking she'd really need when she got downstairs. As she stepped onto the platform and it began to descend, she wondered how Manning had tried to explain things to Hellboy. Unsuccessfully, she gathered from the guard's attitude.

Clay was waiting for her at the bottom. Before the clamps locked the platform in position, she slipped the sling over her head and handed it to her fellow agent. "Does he know I got shot?"

Neither of them questioned who 'he' might be. "Oh yeah," said Clay. "Not that you could have hidden it anyway, with all the lifting you have to do."

Getting better and better all the time. "How did he take it?"

"Manning took off out of here like Big Red was breathing fire and his ass was made of gasoline. Somehow I don't think the Director will let you go on any more raids, no matter who asks. Liz is with him right now, keeping him company until you show up. I didn't know you were friends with Seth Garrett."

"He trained me at Quantico. So, does he just know about the arm or does he know..."

"He knows you'd have died right there on Mike Tsai's foyer floor if you hadn't been wearing a vest. I have never seen him this angry, and I have seen him angry, Myers." Clay took her uninjured right arm as they approached the vault door that shut off Hellboy's room from the rest of the Bureau. "Do you want me to come in with you? Liz and I might be able to cool him off."

"I'll be fine." The drugs had wrapped her in a protective cocoon and she didn't worry about what he would do. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew, even if Clay and Liz were temporarily unsure of that.

"I'll come in anyway. What possessed you to go on that raid? Don't you get enough action chasing demons and monsters here?"

"Doesn't it ever bother you, Clay? The demons and monsters? Just for once, I wanted to feel normal, like a normal FBI agent who arrests normal criminals. I didn't join the FBI to become Agent Mulder or Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Before he could ask her the obvious question–why had she joined the FBI?–she pushed the key into the lock. Clay had to spin the wheel and pull the door open for her. "And hide that sling before he sees it," she hissed at him. He spread his hands helplessly, then concealed it under his jacket.

Liz rose from her seat on Hellboy's couch. "Joanna! Are you okay? Manning told us you'd gotten shot. But you must be okay...or you'd be in the hospital, right? They wouldn't let you leave if you weren't okay."

"I just took one in the arm. It's nothing. I'm all right." She moved to hug the younger woman, keeping her injured left arm away from contact. The sling would have helped, but she didn't want Hellboy confronted immediately with evidence of her injury. Later, after he was reasonable again, she'd put it back on.

"Don't you ever say you're all right when you're not." Hellboy stood up from the couch, staring hard at her. Clay had said Manning took off like he was breathing fire, and the smoke billowing around his head from the cigar he was puffing on added to the dragon-like effect. He took the cigar out of his mouth just long enough to put it in the ashtray and then he was off. "I want to know why you took off like that on some damn raid and nearly got yourself killed. I want you to explain that to me, because I just don't get that."

"Red," Liz protested, "don't you think you should hold off on that for a little while?"

"Yeah," Clay added. "Myers should probably be resting right now."

"She can rest all she wants. Later." He was a fearsome figure in the black leather pants and the black T-shirt, his tail cutting through the air in vicious swipes, but Joanna thought he was the most comforting sight she'd seen in a long time. The others didn't seem to understand that she would be fine with him, regardless of how angry he was. "You two can leave now."

"Red, I don't think–"

"Yeah, maybe we should–"

Joanna suddenly felt far too tired to endure any more of this. A spell of dizziness made her sway a bit; as unobtrusively as possible, she took hold of the edge of the table for support. But he noticed it, of course. Nothing got past him. "Please promise them you won't yell at me too much tonight or they won't leave. And I really need to sit down, so if you could speed up the process I'd appreciate it."

"Fine. I won't yell. Now can you guys get out? You both know I'm not gonna hurt her, anyway." Finally, reluctantly, both of them started to depart. "Clay!" The other agent turned around. "Give her back her sling. The arm's gonna need it." With a shrug he pulled it out and pushed several cats out of the way to place it on the table in front of her. Joanna closed her eyes and hoped they'd leave soon. She needed to sit down but didn't want to show weakness. They'd insist on staying if she did. When she opened her eyes again, the big steel door had closed. Now she was alone with Hellboy, who was angry with her. He looked at her with those beautiful eyes and smiled. "Manning never would have had the balls to do that."

"Do what?"

"Let them lock the door behind him when I'm in a mood like this."

"Well, I'm not Manning." She took a step toward the couch and the vertigo returned. In an instant he was at her side, his tail wrapped around her waist to give her support, his left hand holding her uninjured arm. "Can we sit down?"

"Yeah, you bet." He helped her over to the couch and they both sat. A different Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers movie was playing on each of his TV sets.

Joanna watched _Follow the Fleet _for a few seconds before she thought to ask, "How did you know I like Astaire and Rogers?"

"Asked Liz. She's a fountain of information, if you listen to her."

They sat there quietly for another few minutes. Joanna had the sense of ever-deepening weirdness again. In the past month, since that night she'd gone out with her old surfer boyfriend, her relationship with Hellboy had undergone some changes. Seeing Hansel had borne in upon her that she had a new life and couldn't go back to the way things were. Listening to him talk about the surfing circuit, which had held some interest for her once, she realized that what she had loved about him was his surface. Hansel was frivolous. That had been all she'd been ready for at that time in her life. Now, however, frivolous didn't do it for her. She needed a man with more–well, gravity was the word that came to mind.

The date with Hansel might have been the catalyst for the changes between her and Hellboy, but she put the blame squarely where it belonged: on herself. She'd had wine at dinner and then she'd accepted his offer of a beer, no, two beers when she came to his room afterward. And, no matter how much she tried to convince herself it had been the alcohol, nothing else, Joanna knew it had only given her the courage to do what she'd wanted to do from the moment she first saw Hellboy, shirtless and pumping iron. Regardless of the fact that she was his keeper and that they had to make sure things stayed impersonal for both their sakes, she had told him she thought he was attractive, reached out for him and caressed the scroll-like designs that decorated his body. The only thing that had saved her from even more inappropriate behavior was Hellboy's obvious shock at what she had done. Hot embarrassment had raked her from head to toe and she had turned and fled to her room. God, he must have thought she was such a slut. Good thing he didn't know that after she got through scolding herself, she had still been so aroused by him that she'd had to get herself off, and the orgasm she'd had while thinking about him fucking her had hit her like ten freight trains. Since then, it seemed that the focus of her sexual fantasies had shifted exclusively to him.

The next day, she had brought him his breakfast. He seemed a little odd, as if he wanted to look anywhere except at her but couldn't pull his eyes away. "Hellboy, I need to apologize for what happened last night. I don't have any excuse for my behavior, but I know that it was totally inappropriate and it will never happen again. If you want to ask Manning for another liaison, I'll understand perfectly."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Girl Scout. We all do inappropriate things from time to time."

"So you wouldn't be happier with Clay as your liaison again, or somebody else?"

"No. I'm happy with you."

So things had continued from there, but she had felt some seismic shift between them. Now he seemed to watch her a lot more when he thought she wasn't looking, and she sensed some kind of tentativeness when he spoke to her. Well, he had not had much–if any–experience with women, so he probably just didn't know how to deal with a woman who'd come on to him while at least semi-sloshed. She tried to seem as professional as possible while still being friendly, and he seemed satisfied with that. Maybe he had needed to see her be less than Agent Myers to be comfortable with her.

"Hurt much?" His voice startled her out of her thoughts.

She looked up into those beautiful golden eyes. Despite the heat of the room, she began feeling cold, the bite of some imaginary frost reaching into her bones. "The wound? No. They shot me up with the good stuff before I left the emergency room. I've got some codeine pills for later." Fine little shivers chased themselves over her skin.

He saw them. "What's wrong, Myers?"

In the seconds since she noticed, the trembling had increased tenfold. "Maybe delayed reaction. Shock. Now that I'm safe..." She couldn't finish the thought. "I think I need a blanket or something."

"I'll do better than that." Hellboy got a blanket off his bed and sat back down next to her, wrapping it around them both. He was careful to remain on her uninjured side, his left arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

Funny she had never noticed how warm he was before. It made sense, she supposed; he was a demon, so he must have brought some of hell's fire with him. She pressed herself closer to him, desperate to soak up some of his heat. Her cheek pressed against the rough cotton of his T-shirt and she could hear his heartbeat. The painkillers made her head swim. "I'm sorry I went off and got shot," she murmured.

"You're always sorry. Just don't do it again. Don't you know how scared I was for you?"

"Somehow I never think of you as being scared."

"That was before I met you, Girl Scout. You introduced me to the concept."

That made her giggle. The cold inside her began receding and she felt her eyes closing. "Think I'm going to sleep..."

"Go ahead. You need to rest."

Much later Joanna opened her eyes. Since the Bureau was underground, she had no way to tell if it was morning or night, but she sensed it was either very late or very early. She was still on Hellboy's couch, covered in a blanket, but what surprised her was that she was lying next to him. Somehow he had shifted their positions without waking her so that he lay on the outside of the couch and she was pressed between the back of the couch and his body. Her head rested on his shoulder and her injured arm lay across his chest. His left hand was on her waist and his right hand, the huge stone hand, covered her hip. She knew that she should get up and go back to her own room, but it was too tempting to remain here with him. Yet again she had an excuse: the wound, the painkillers. And this time they were both fully dressed. No way was she going to move away from him. She'd have to apologize again in the morning, but that wouldn't be for hours.

"You awake, Myers?"

She smiled against his shoulder. "If you didn't know I was, you wouldn't have asked."

"Feeling any better?"

"Yeah. I'm still pretty out of it, though. Nothing seems quite real."

He used his tail to reach over to the ashtray on the table and replace his cigar. "Don't knock it. You and I have our best conversations when you feel out of it."

Joanna didn't know what to say to that, so she settled for remaining quiet. It felt right, lying here in his arms. More right than anything had in a long time, and that was the absolute most wrong thing that she could feel. She was his keeper and she had to act like it, not like some hormonal teenager. How was she supposed to do her job if she kept behaving so unprofessionally? "I should go back to my room. What time is it?"

He raised up slightly to look over the back of the couch at the clock. "About 5:30 in the morning. But I don't think you should go back to your room. You could have another dizzy spell, fall and hurt yourself. It'd be best if you just slept here." She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with, "I'd feel better if you stayed here."

How could she argue with that? Besides, he did have a point. When the painkillers had worn off, she could go back to her room. "Okay."

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while. "You know I'm still mad, right?" he asked her. "You're not off the hook. I'm going to yell about this later."

"I know." Her lips curved into a sleepy smile. "So what did you say to Manning when he told you about the Tsai raid? Clay said he took off pretty fast."

"Told him what I was going to do to him if he ever let you go on a mission without me again. I don't think he liked the sound it of. Probably has a weak stomach."

"What did he tell you about the raid itself?"

The fingers of his left hand toyed with the braid that fell over her shoulder. She had been in such a hurry to get back to the BPRD that she had not done anything but change out of her bloodstained clothes before taking the taxi back. "The FBI was arresting this drug dealer and there was a lot of shooting. One of his bodyguards killed three other agents before they arrested the bad guy. Then one of his uncles went crazy and shot you. You were wearing Kevlar so the bullet that hit you in the chest didn't kill you, but you did get shot in the arm."

"Leave it to Manning not to know what to leave out. There was no point in upsetting you. I never would have told you about the chest hit, just the arm. And I wouldn't have told you about that if I could hide it."

"I don't like you hiding things from me."

"Well, I don't like you not letting me do my job. I am your backup. You shouldn't try to keep me safe all the time. That's going to make your fieldwork suffer. Besides, I didn't join the FBI because I wanted to be safe. If I had, I would have stayed in psychiatry."

"Why did you join the FBI?"

There was the question she dreaded. "I don't really feel like talking about it."

"You brought it up. Come on, what's the harm in telling me? Tell you what. If you answer my question, you can ask me any question you want and I'll answer it. What do you say?"

It was crazy. But she did feel safe with him; he was her friend, at the very least. Maybe even her partner. Perhaps she could tell him just enough to satisfy his curiosity without having to go any deeper. There was no way she could do that tonight, not after hearing her father speaking through another man's mouth seconds before she should have died. "I became a FBI agent because I wanted to do something good, protect people who couldn't protect themselves. I know that sounds really sappy, but it's what I need to do. That's why I don't like your trying to protect me. It's my job to protect you."

Hellboy nodded, seeming lost in thought. "Fair enough. Now what's your question?"

"You weren't serious about that, were you?" Joanna raised her head to look him in the eye.

"Yeah, I was. So ask away."

"I can't think of anything!" Just then something came to mind, but it was so outrageous she dismissed the thought instantly. But it would have been nice to know for sure...

"You just thought of a question." She opened her mouth to deny it, but he shook his head. "You're a terrible liar, so don't even bother. Just spit it out."

"No, I can't. It's too personal."

"I can't wait to hear this. It better be good after all this build-up."

Joanna smiled and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "I really shouldn't."

"I insist."

She took a deep breath. "Okay, then. Well, there was something I wondered about for a while now. Your right hand is made of stone, so..." Her voice trailed off.

"So?"

"Remember, you asked for this. Is that the only body part you have that's made of stone?"

For a second he didn't get it, then he did. Where her cheek rested against him, she felt laughter rumbling in his chest. In the eight months that she had worked there, she had never heard him laugh. "Why, Agent Myers. Who would have thought you got ideas like that?"

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No. Well, not really."

"Besides, you haven't answered the question."

"Uh–it's not stone. As far as I know, it's just the usual. I mean, you know, like human guys."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"You can check for yourself if you want." He got a glint in his eye when he said that.

Joanna remembered all her good intentions, all the compelling reasons why she had to keep her distance from him. Thanks to the painkillers, things might not seem real, but she knew that the temporary windowpane separating her from reality would dissolve soon, and she would be stuck with the consequences of her actions, good or bad. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"I think it's the best idea I ever had."

"Things would change. Maybe not for the better." She tried to ignore how much she wanted to touch him, how much even thinking about it excited her.

"For once, Myers, you need to stop worrying and go with the moment. You think too much." He unfastened the button at his waistband and slid the zipper on his leather pants down. Joanna shivered as a river of pure arousal warmed her body. Who knew that just a sound could be so sexual? He took her left hand, as gently as if it were made of porcelain, and slid it into the front of his pants.

Her breath left her in a rush as her fingers made contact with him. If she had thought he was warm before, he was fire now. And he was right–it didn't have the feel of stone to it, although it was getting harder every moment. Moving carefully to avoid jostling her arm, Joanna put aside her doubts and explored him. He made a deep growling noise in his throat, which she thought meant that it felt good. No deviations from the human norm that she could find, except maybe the size, which was what she'd expect given his build, and probably the color, although due to where she lay and the low lighting in the room she couldn't see it. The only sense she could use to know him was touch. Her palm caressed him up and down his length, enjoying the feel of him. The skin of his cock felt like velvet, which surprised her because the rest of his skin seemed somewhat leathery, tough, but then again she had never touched him at length other than that night a month ago. Then she had been too out of it to really concentrate on the sensation of touch, but now her world seemed to have shrunk to her hand and the flesh underneath it. He arched his hips upward, pressing himself harder against her hand, and a wave of heat swept through her. She fought a powerful urge to lean down and take him into her mouth, but the image lingered in her mind. Her skin seemed to have turned into a major sensory organ as she could almost feel the blood rushing into his cock, making it harden. "God, that feels good, Myers," he groaned.

"Joanna. I think that if I have your cock in my hand, we should be on a first-name basis."

He laughed, the sound almost breathless. "I like it when you talk dirty."

"I'll remember that." Her voice died away as her hand wrapped itself around his hardness and stroked up and down experimentally. His body jerked in reaction. The rational part of her mind had been locked down, but stray thoughts kept reaching her. Was this the first time a woman had ever touched him? How would the BPRD have handled any sexual needs he expressed? Probably a well-chosen hooker. Would he even have expressed any needs, though? Professor Broom was like his father–how do you tell your father you need to get fucked? And he certainly couldn't tell Manning anything like that. Was this why Professor Broom had chosen her to be Hellboy's liaison, hoping that she would become attracted to his adopted son? If so, he had succeeded brilliantly, but she knew nothing could ever come out of this. A little sexual exploration was one

thing, but if they got more deeply involved it would affect his fieldwork. He tried to protect her too much now, so how much more intense would that become if they had sex? And what if he decided he was in love with her because she was the first woman he ever fucked? No, she was the one with experience here and she couldn't see any favorable outcome to this, but the clarity of her vision didn't halt the motion of her hand on him, because the fire in him was kindling in her as well and suddenly, savagely, she wanted to make him come, give him pleasure that no one else ever had. He was a picture of abandon, his head thrown back, body completely open to her. Joanna moved one of her legs across his and began to shift her position so she could use both hands.

The metallic rasp of the key sinking into the lock outside froze them both. Hellboy's head whipped around to stare at the door. "Breakfast. Great timing, Clay. Remind me to kick your ass."

She stared at him, arousal giving way to mortification. He pulled her back down to his side and pulled the blanket up over them. "Whatever you do, don't apologize. And just pretend you're asleep. I need an excuse not to get up right now. I sure can't zip my pants with the hard-on you gave me." She tried to ignore the tingling between her legs at his words and closed her eyes, replacing her head on his shoulder.

It was good to pretend oblivion; for now she didn't have to deal with the aftermath of what she'd done. She listened to the sound of Clay moving around, unloading the meal cart and the cats flowing around him like a river, meowing. She listened to the sound of Hellboy's heart beating. The place over her own heart where Tsai's uncle's bullet had struck her throbbed with its own pulse. Her father's warning. She knew he had the power to carry out this action, easily, but why come after her after all this time? Why not when she was younger, when she lived with her uncle David, when she had been untrained and defenseless? What had changed?

Clay said quietly to Hellboy, "When she wakes up, tell her she needs to get cleaned up. Manning wants to have a meeting with the both of you ASAP."

"What about?"

"Abe's back from Louisiana and it looks like we'll all be going back with him."

Her situation with Hellboy slid into the background, unnoticed. Joanna didn't need to hear where she would be going. She already knew she was going home.


	2. When I Change Your Mind

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from _Hellboy._

**Summary: **Conflicts arise in professional and personal relationships at the BPRD as they prepare for the trip to Louisiana.

Chapter 2–When I Change Your Mind

Hellboy looked at the faces in a semicircle around the big mahogany table in the conference room. Manning stood at the head of it. Big surprise; his ego wouldn't take anything else, plus he was running the briefing. Clay sat at his left, his face set in the FBI's standard guarded mode, while Liz sat on Manning's right, her eyes focused on the tabletop. Abe Sapien sat on Hellboy's right. To someone unfamiliar with Abe, his amphibian face might seem expressionless, but the demon knew how to read him. Something that had happened down in Louisiana had upset Abe, and deeply. But even the evidence of his friend's disquiet could not distract him from the real focus of his attention: Joanna.

She sat on Liz's right, across the table from him, careful to keep distance between them. Her head was bent over the papers Manning had passed out to each of them, but he thought that was only so she wouldn't have to look at him. Once again she wore her little power suit, a navy one with the usual white button-down blouse that now matched her sling, but instead of the gold chain she wore a pearl necklace. The white of the pearls seemed to glow against her skin. Hellboy remembered what her arm had looked like stretched over his chest. And her hair was back in its headache-inducing bun. He liked the braid better than the bun. Should he tell her that? He couldn't help letting his eyes caress her. She was alive. That was what he had been repeating to himself from the moment Manning told him she'd been shot. He had not lost her. The picture he had of her bleeding to death on some scumbag's floor wasn't real. She had been hurt, but she was alive. Now she was with him and she was safe. Whether she liked it or not, he would see that she stayed that way.

Manning was saying something, but Hellboy tuned him out. It wasn't like Abe wouldn't fill him in later, anyway. No, what he needed to think about was what happened between them. For the past month, ever since he had watched her on the security cameras, he had been thinking about some way to approach her. Just asking her, "Hey, would you sleep with me," didn't seem to be quite the way to do it. Joanna seemed like a woman who needed some–what was the word, finesse? Besides which she was all hung up about having to protect him. That was his biggest obstacle. And since he didn't have any experience with women, he figured his skill at seduction could probably be measured in negative numbers. He might have asked Liz for suggestions, but he wasn't ready to go that public with his intentions. Hey, who was he kidding–Liz had figured things out the second he'd asked for one of her snapshots of Myers. The next day Liz had appeared with a Polaroid of her, standing in front of the door to her room, a little smile on her face, wearing the power suit in gray. It was Scotch-taped to the headboard of his bed now, along with pictures of Father and Abe and Clay. He didn't know whether she'd noticed it or not, but he knew Clay had. The man missed very little, but Hellboy hoped he didn't see much significance in it. He had a feeling she'd object to everybody at the BPRD knowing he wanted her before she did, but there might not be much he could do about that.

When Clay had come in with his breakfast that morning, Hellboy had seen a moment of pure shock in the man's eyes before the FBI mask snapped back into place. Sure, they were lying on his couch, not in his bed, and they were both completely dressed (as far as Clay could see), but she had spent the night with him. Part of her job description was best friend, but that stretched the definition of friendship. He wondered if Clay planned on talking to anyone about it. Oh, she'd love the gossip if that happened. But come on, last night both Liz and his former liaison had been worried sick he was going to hurt Joanna for going on that raid, or at least chew her out good and proper. They should be glad he'd been so good to her, kept her warm, let her sleep, taken care of her, for God's sake.

And after she'd woken up–his body tensed at the memory. Where had she gotten the nerve to ask him that question? More important, how had he gotten up the nerve to actually put her hand on him? Even if she was pumped full of painkillers, for a minute he figured she'd give him a good whack in the face, jump up, and storm back out to her own room. But she hadn't done that at all. She had traced his cock with her fingers, caressed him, and he had given himself over to her. It felt so different when it was someone else's touch, especially when the someone else had such soft, gentle hands. Most of the time her eyes had been closed, but the expression on her face had been one of complete peace. Touching him had excited her, though; he knew from the way her breath had come in quick little pants and she had gotten much bolder in her explorations. He still couldn't quite believe that when Clay had broken things up, she'd been in the middle of giving him a hand job, and he'd had to rein in a strong impulse to kill the other man. Hellboy didn't think he was being too optimistic for believing that with enough time and the right approach, good things could happen with her. And no more displays of Clay's bad timing. He'd have to put a towel on the door next time or something, because there most definitely was going to be a next time.

Hellboy had calmed down enough by the time Clay left to get his pants zipped back up. "You heard that, right?" he asked Joanna. "Manning wants us in for a briefing."

She sat up, moving her injured arm carefully, flexing the fingers of her hand, the same one that had been wrapped around his hard cock. His leather pants became uncomfortably tight at the thought. "I'll go back to my room and get dressed."

"Myers, I think we probably should talk about this."

"We have no time. It'll keep until later."

He gave in on it–no reason to piss Manning off any more than usual, especially with the scare he'd thrown into the man yesterday–and handed her the sling that had lain unused on the table since the night before. "Put that on. Your arm needs the support."

Taking the sling from him, she fitted her arm into it and pulled the strap over her head. Her eyes met his, just for a moment, and a delicate pink blush moved into her cheeks. He thought she looked lovely. "Hellboy, I'm–"

"Don't say you're sorry. I'm not."

She bit her lips and nodded. "I'd better go get dressed."

So he watched her leave, her jeaned hips moving in their usual hypnotic way, until the vault door closed behind her. Even though he'd gotten very little sleep and was still simmering with unreleased energy from his near-miss with her, he was feeling good as he got dressed for the meeting with Manning. And why shouldn't he be in a good mood? Myers was coming around, and he was about to go on a mission, stop all this sitting around and get some paranormal kick-ass going on. He didn't do leisure time too well.

"The center of the paranormal activity in this case is the town of Carrefour, Louisiana, population 561, founded in 1720 by refugee French aristocrats." Manning looked down at his notes again. "Some real winners there–one of the town's founders was Richard de Lavelle, Comte de Courtalain. He'd been one of the members of a society of black magicians led by the defrocked priest Etienne Guiborg, which included Madame de Montespan, at the court of Louis XIV. Another was Sara Lemagne, the Baroness de Chantennal. Her history's a lot more detailed. Reads like a romance novel. Apparently her husband the Baron died of some mystery illness–our researchers think it was rheumatic fever–and rumors spread that she'd used witchcraft to kill him. One of the church fathers who arrested her seemed to have the hots for her and kept her alive as his mistress, imprisoned in an out-of-the-way monastery in Normandy with her five-year-old daughter Odette. According to the history the Archbishop wrote, the Baroness used her magic to bewitch the guards at the monastery and make herself and her daughter invisible so that they could escape."

"Probably bribed them to look the other way," said Joanna.

Manning gave her a look, then continued. "When the monks discovered she had escaped, they sent guards after her and she sold her soul in return for a blizzard to slow down her pursuers. The search party lost her in the storm, after which she and her daughter managed to reach a seaport and sail to Louisiana. She and de Lavelle supposedly met in New Orleans and thought it was a good idea to found a little town where they could keep to themselves. Hence the town of Carrefour, which caught our interest because of a recent pattern of murders in the area." He nodded toward Abe, who took over the briefing.

"The paranormal disturbances that first drew our interest began about seven months ago. They began as seemingly ordinary poltergeist activity, but it involved the entire town. It didn't get much play in the _Weekly World News_ or the tabloid shows because Carrefour is quite isolated. It's located on the edge of a swamp in southern Louisiana and the only people who go there are passing through on one of the back roads or have gotten off the interstate somehow. The poltergeist activity continued for about a month or so, then the apparitions appeared. They tended to be dead relatives, trying to give a warning about something but being prevented and then vanishing, although we did get some pretty colorful reports of assorted creatures in the swamps. Paralleling these reports were the killings. The first victims were transients passing through the area, prostitutes, truck drivers, people who took the wrong exit off the interstate. Because they weren't native to Carrefour, they weren't reported as missing for quite some time. Only in the last two weeks did we begin making connections between the missing and the activity in that area."

"But the victims didn't remain transients," said Clay.

"That's right. In the last six weeks, a total of nineteen people have gone missing from Carrefour itself. Out of those nineteen, ten of them have since been found dead. We assume that the killers or killers is still holding the others prisoner. Full details on the victims are provided in your briefing papers."

"Why have you ruled out an ordinary serial killer? The paranormal disturbances and the murders may have nothing to do with each other."

Abe looked at Joanna. "From the condition of the bodies. Despite the decomposition, there were certain physical injuries that no normal murderer could have produced."

"Such as?"

"They were partially eaten, and the teeth marks match no known scavengers in the area of Louisiana. Or anywhere, for that matter."

She inclined her head. "Point taken."

Liz spoke for the first time. "Do we have any ideas on what could have done that?"

Manning answered for Abe. "Not at the moment. That's why we're leaving for Carrefour next week to conduct a more in-depth investigation. We've rented a house there, even more isolated than the town. Hellboy and Abe will stay there as much as possible. Our cover is that we're a camera crew from one of the tabloid news shows that's doing a story on the paranormal activity. I'm the producer, Clay's the sound man, Sherman is the camera operator, and Myers is the on-camera talent."

Hellboy sat up. "Myers can't go. She got shot yesterday, in case you don't remember. Aren't you going to put her on medical leave?"

The Director kept his eyes as blank as glass, reflecting everything, revealing nothing. "I understand that she is unable to function in her usual capacity as your backup. For this mission Clay will back you up. She has an observer role because I feel sure she is indispensable on this mission." He closed the file in front of him, a sure sign the meeting was over. "If you have any further questions, don't hesitate to contact me."

During the exodus out of the room, Abe put a hand on Hellboy's arm. "I need to talk to you, right away."

He nodded, watching Joanna leave the room. Much as he'd rather not, it seemed he'd have to wait to have the talk with her about last night. "Better be good, though. You don't know what I'm giving up for this."

"I think I have some idea. Remember, I am psychic."

Hellboy thanked God he couldn't blush. "You get that from me or her?" Wait a minute–Abe could tell him what was going on in her head. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

"You." The amphibian kept silent for a few minutes as they walked down the corridor toward Father's study, where his tank was. "I pick up very little from Agent Myers."

Interesting. Most people were crystal to Abe. "Why is that?"

"She has the strongest mental shields I've ever encountered. On a few occasions I've been able to read her, normally when her emotions overcome her, but other than the first time I met her, I've never gotten any specific factual information from her mind. What I can pick up on is generally her emotions. For example, during the meeting today I had no idea what she was thinking or feeling. She was quite guarded." Abe got back into his tank and sighed with relief at the embrace of the water.

That was very unusual. Some people had natural mental barriers in place that could block his ability, but in the years that Abe and Hellboy had both been at the BPRD, they had encountered individuals like that maybe once every ten years or so. "I believe it. She's the type to have been born with shields up."

"Our Agent Myers wasn't born with this talent. It's learned, and she uses it consciously. Haven't you noticed she won't stay in a room with me for more than twenty minutes? Shielding herself probably takes up too much energy for her to sustain longer than that."

Hellboy leaned against the wall, thinking. "Father told Liz she was a limited empath. Maybe it's a defense from being overwhelmed by her ability."

"Limited is the key word. This shielding–do you remember _Return of the Pink Panther_ when the tour guide picks up the diamond and the alarm goes off and those steel security plates slam down over the doors and windows? It's just like that Her powers simply aren't great enough for her to need this level of protection." He hung upside down in the tank, looking at Hellboy, unblinking. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but perhaps you should keep somewhat more distance from her than you have been, at least until the end of this mission. Manning knows something about her that he isn't willing to reveal, and I got the distinct impression that it was not good."

"So you think she could be dangerous to me? That she'd hurt me?" Anger grew inside him. No way. No way could Joanna do anything like that. She'd risked herself too many times, gotten hurt for him too often. What was between them was not a lie. He knew it.

Abe's lips compressed and Hellboy knew he was restraining irritation. "Not consciously, no. From everything I have sensed about her, she means well. She isn't some hired psychic assassin or demon from another plane of existence. But the fact that she can shield herself leads me to think that she may have other abilities we don't know about."

"You said you sensed things about her the first time the two of you met. Like what?"

Abe shook his head. "Just little things. Her middle name is Therese, after her mother's older sister. She was born in Kansas City. She got the scar on her chin when she was ten years old and she's afraid it will never fade. When I mentioned that, I felt a blast of pure fear and the shields came down. Agent Myers is quite good at that. Professor Broom never noticed a thing and she kept a smile on her face the whole time."

Hellboy thought about it. "Something to do with the scar?"

"I think so. Have you ever heard her say anything about it?"

"No. I've never heard her talk much about her past at all." Except for Hansel, but he saw no reason to share that with Abe. "Liz might know more. She and Myers seem to talk."

"Have you read her personnel file?" Hellboy shook his head no. "I think it might be a good idea if you did. Maybe it would give us an idea why Manning thinks she's indispensable for this mission. He doesn't throw words like that around casually."

The idea didn't sit well with him, because that seemed like spying on her, but Abe's observations threw him. That Myers had some sort of paranormal abilities wasn't that surprising–Father had some special reason for choosing her–but that she was strong enough to keep their resident psychic from rummaging through her mind was. Shields like that involved training. He doubted that her FBI personnel file would tell him where she had gotten trained, but it could give him clues about her past. He knew he could simply ask, but he very much doubted she'd tell him. When he'd asked about why she left psychiatry, she'd answered, but it had been vague, and he'd sensed her relief when he didn't press the issue. "I'll ask Manning for the files tomorrow."

"You're not betraying her, Red."

"I wish I believed that."

It was dinnertime before he saw her again, wheeling his meal cart into his room. Clay wasn't with her, which surprised him. And she had removed the sling again, which irritated him. He'd have to talk to her about taking better care of herself. And what about Manning and Clay? How did they expect her to handle all that food alone? "You know I'm not going to let you strain yourself with all that lifting. It's bad enough that Manning's insisting on you going to Louisiana."

"I can handle both." She took hold of one of the big stainless steel bowls full of chili and started to lift it.

"Stop that, Joanna." She did stop, probably out of surprise that he'd called her by her first name. "You really do have a problem admitting you can't do everything. Why do you think you bring me all my meals, rather than me getting them myself?" He raised his stone hand in front of her face. "I don't have the manual dexterity with this one that I do with my left. It doesn't grasp very well, so I couldn't lift one of those bowls alone. But if we do this..." He moved to her left and took hold of that side of the bowl. "You take one side and we can move this together." Joanna took the right side and they lifted the bowl onto the table, where the other three bowls soon joined it. Hellboy let her move the nachos alone, figuring they were light enough for her to manage. When she was done, she cast a quick look at the door.

"We still need to talk about last night."

A sigh escaped her lips. "I was kind of hoping you'd forget about it."

"Last night, or the talking about it?"

"Either."

"The chances of that aren't good." In fact, he didn't think he'd forget one second of it until the day he died, if then.

She looked around for a place to sit down. He suppressed a smile when she realized it was the couch or his bed and selected the couch. Hellboy sat down next to her, but kept a comfortable distance. No need to make her more jumpy. "I know you don't want to hear me say I'm sorry, so I won't. But I behaved irresponsibly. All this is entirely my fault. I don't have any excuse for it. My job is to protect you, and I can't do that effectively if I am sexually involved with you. There's a reason they don't let married cops be partners."

"Last time I looked, we weren't married." Oh, sure, he knew what she was getting at, but that didn't mean he had to make it easy for her. No matter what she said, he was not giving up on her. He would not let her push him away.

"That was just an example. They frown on cops who are lovers working together, too. It's a matter of judgment. We would lose objectivity. My judgment couldn't be trusted when it comes to you, and you can say this wouldn't happen as much as you want, but I know you'd feel the need to protect me, probably enough to lose sight of the mission."

"We protect each other, Joanna. That's part of the job." Inside he started to feel sick. She had that stubborn look on her face that said she wouldn't be talked out of it, but he was going to have to do it.

Joanna sighed. "You know I think you protect me too much now. It'll only get worse if we...do what we were thinking of last night. Can you tell me you'd sleep with me and still be willing to sacrifice my life to kill some monster you're fighting?"

"I wouldn't sacrifice anybody! Not Clay, not Liz or Abe, not you."

Leaning forward, she took his left hand in both of hers. "The choice may not be up to you. I'm afraid you'll forget that, in the end, I'm worth less to the BPRD than you are."

"What are–"

"Let me finish. I'm an FBI agent. Last year seventy-five other people just like me graduated from the academy. Any one of them could do my job just as well. But you, Hellboy, you're one of a kind. They couldn't replace you in a thousand years. That's what I mean when I say the BPRD would much rather lose me than you, and they certainly wouldn't thank you if you got yourself hurt or killed trying to save someone who is pretty much a disposable part."

"Nobody thinks of you like that." She was starting to piss him off, talking about herself that way.

"Anyone who lacks the abilities that you or Liz or Abe have, in the eyes of the BPRD, is expendable. Director Manning might genuinely regret my death, but he would understand the need if it was a choice between my survival or yours."

"So my judgment's off if I'm not going to toss you down some monster's throat to buy myself an extra five seconds to get my gun out? Is that what you're saying?" She sighed and opened her mouth to keep talking, but he was tired of it. Gripping her hands, he pulled her against him and brought his mouth down over hers. Even his being pissed off at her didn't make him rough as his left hand released hers and went to the back of her head, pulling the pins out of her hair and raking his fingers through it until it fell over her shoulders. He felt her gasp into his mouth and took advantage of her shock to slide his tongue inside. She tasted good, like chocolate. Hellboy hadn't known she had a sweet tooth. His hand cradled her neck and angled her head slightly as he continued exploring her mouth. His first kiss. Why had he waited this long to kiss her? Whatever reason he'd had, it wasn't good enough.

Her hands came up and grasped his arms, but she didn't try to push him away. Instead she let them rest there, just above his elbows, her flesh cool against his skin. For a few moments she didn't respond to his kiss, her lips quiet beneath his, making him wonder if he was doing this right, but then something seemed to break inside her. A violent shiver ran through her and she was kissing him back, her hands sliding up his arms until her fingers were buried in his hair. He grasped her hips and lifted her until she was in his lap, then he slid the navy jacket of her suit off her shoulders. She barely seemed to notice, but did release her grip on him long enough for him to remove it and toss it aside. Hellboy hated to give up her mouth, even temporarily, but he eased their faces apart and stared at her, her dark eyes hazy with passion, the lips still half-open. "You want me, Joanna. Doesn't matter whether you should or whether you want to. And we're going to do something about it."

She struggled for breath as his fingers brushed the neckline of her silk blouse, demurely open at the first two buttons. He undid the third button and saw the leading edge of the bruise that Tsai's uncle's bullet had left, a death flower in rich shades of purple over her heart. Supporting her with his stone hand at her back, he leaned forward and placed his lips against the bruise. It radiated heat and he felt her shudder at his touch. Without thinking he ran his tongue over it. A whimper escaped Joanna, but he didn't think it was pain. The taste of her filled his mouth, salt and a hint of gardenia and woman. If she had been a demon female, he would have been able to heal the bruise this way.

Confused, he lifted his head from her. Where had that thought come from? He didn't know anything about demon females. When he'd passed through Rasputin's portal he'd been a baby, too young for mating, too young to know anything. But he knew the thought was true, and that worried him a little.

Joanna tried to regain her composure, no easy trick while she was straddling Hellboy's lap. "Did you hear a word I just said? We can't do this."

He held her in place, his worry of a few moments ago pushed to the back of his mind. "I heard you. One thing I didn't hear, though, was that you don't want me, and that's the only thing that would stop me."

"God, you already know that. Would you have believed me if I lied?"

"No. I'll make a deal with you. Sooner or later you'll come around and decide you want to be with me because that is how you feel. Until then, we just try this on for size. You let me do some..." He paused, stuck for a tactful word.

"Exploring?"

He smiled. "Yeah, that's it. Let me do some exploring with you. Nobody has to know about it, if you're worried about what Manning will do or what the other agents will say."

"Manning could fire me for getting involved with you."

Her hair was in her face, and he smoothed it back. God, it was just as soft as it looked. He wanted to bury his face in it. "I don't think he will, even if he does find out. It wouldn't be something he's comfortable dealing with. Plus, he might think you could keep me in line better if we were involved. And if it starts affecting my fieldwork the way you think it will, we'll stop." Of course he had no intention whatsoever of doing that, but he wanted to let her get used to the idea of being with him, ease her into being his girlfriend before she knew what was happening. One step at a time. He didn't have much patience, but for her he would develop some. "Did you know that you're the first woman I've ever kissed?" She shook her head and he noticed her lips were fuller, darker than they had been before. Because he had kissed her, she looked this way. Something inside him growled with pleasure at the thought. "You're the only woman who's ever touched me the way you did, too. And I want to feel more of that."

"Liz–she makes more sense for you–the two of you don't work together much–"

It was a weak, last ditch attempt to keep things as they were, but she needed a whole lot more firepower than that to fend him off. "I don't want Liz. I don't want anyone except you. Think about it, Joanna. Do you really want me to be alone forever?"

Her eyes widened with dismay. So she did care enough about him not to let that happen. "That's impossible. You can't expect me to think I'm the only woman you've ever met in your life who's wanted to...well, who's let you touch her like this."

Hellboy let the tips of his fingers trail over the side of her face. So beautiful and strong, and she was his, whether she realized it or not. No way was he letting her go. "You are, though. I've never seen a woman naked in person, either. I want to see you like that."

"And if it messes up your fieldwork, we'll stop?" He nodded. She caught her lower lip between her teeth for a minute, then made a decision. "Okay, but–pardon my language–I don't think we should fuck yet. Just exploring for now, like you said."

Damn it. Well, he should have known better than to think he wouldn't have to do some groundwork. He could wait. Not that he liked it, but he could manage it. "I have no problem at all with that, Joanna. But I want to see you now."

"All right." Her voice was dark and sweet as molasses as she smiled at him, then leaned forward to press her mouth against his. He let himself drift with the feeling as her hands touched his face, traced its contours, their coolness making him shiver and sending all the blood from his brain straight into his groin. Then she pulled back enough to let him look at her and began unbuttoning her blouse. Quickly she pulled it free of the waistband of her skirt and off her body, dropping it on top of her jacket. The bulky white bandage around her upper left arm reminded him of how fragile she was, that he needed to be gentle, but that thought slipped away. Underneath she wore a flesh-colored lace bra with a little bow in the middle, between her breasts. The bruise over her heart made her skin look even paler. He brought a finger up and traced its outline as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. For a moment she hesitated, then let the piece of lace fall from her torso.

She was every bit as perfect as he remembered. More than a hint of shyness crossed her face as he stared at her for long moments, unspeaking, until he drew her forward until his mouth touched the hollow of her throat, her pulse beating rapidly beneath the skin. Her arms went around his neck and she murmured with pleasure. Hellboy ran his mouth up the side of her neck, nipping gently and feeling her shiver. "You're beautiful," he told her. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you."

"I still think this is a bad idea," she whispered.

"I know. Do you want to stop?"

"Hell, no." She grinned at him and he laughed. "I have to get off you to take my skirt off. Do you mind?"

"Yeah, but go ahead."

Joanna unbuttoned and unzipped, the skirt pooling at her feet, and he learned that she wore stockings and a garter belt regularly, since he doubted she thought she'd get laid while bringing him his dinner. This time the garter belt was white and her panties were some light shade of purple. He didn't protest when she removed the garter belt and stockings. When he touched her, he wanted nothing between his hands and her body. She let out something between a gasp and a sigh as she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. "Can't believe I'm doing this."

_That makes two of us, _he thought. He stood up and peeled off his T-shirt. Nothing more right now, since he didn't want to make her nervous, and the sight of his arousal just might do that. "Would you lie down on the couch?" The couch was safer than the bed, less official.

She did, stretching out on her back, and he let his eyes go everywhere. As she watched him, he knelt beside the couch and rested his stone hand on her thigh. Her eyelids fluttered a little, but opened again when he brushed his normal hand over her shoulder and let his fingers slide over the swell of her breast. Her body fascinated him, so soft, he thought, until he reached the nipple, tight and hardened. He traced its edge, making endless circles until she groaned. "You can put your mouth on me if you want." Her voice held an edge of frustration that called to him.

"You want me to?"

"I wish you would." At that he leaned over her and took her nipple into his mouth. Joanna's body arched up into him, her hands digging into his back, drawing a growl from him. She loosened her grip. "Did I hurt you?"

He lifted his head and his breath against her made her squirm. "No. It feels good. You don't have to be afraid of hurting me. You won't."

Joanna reached up and stroked his face. "I'd like to be that sure." Without warning he took one of her hands and raked her nails across his chest. Hard. She squeaked with surprise and sat up, but no blood appeared. "Hellboy!"

He kissed her again, his tongue moving against hers, reassuring, until she fell back onto the couch. "Trust me." His hand closed over her other breast and teased the erect nipple, but his kisses grazed her ribs, moving downward to her belly. She was sensitive there, so he took his time, stroking her with lips and tongue, letting the roughness of his goatee tickle her, tracing patterns on the delicate skin with his fingertips, until she writhed, no longer able to bite her lips and keep silent. Her pleasure noises went directly to his groin and he had to fight for control of himself. This, now, was for her. A little later, he knew, she would do as much for him.

His stone hand moved from her thigh to her knee and nudged her legs apart. Placing a last kiss on her hipbone, he released her breast and slid his hand between her thighs. The suddenness of it drew a gasp out of her, which was followed by a groan as he found her clit and began caressing it. Her hips jolted upward and he felt the tremors in her legs. "Oh...oh, yes...Hellboy...please don't stop. Please." Her hands fluttered, restless on his back, his shoulders, until her fingers found the grooves of the designs on his flesh and settled into them, tracing the occult symbols until he became dizzy with her touch. He maintained the rhythm he found she liked, but as much as he wanted to, he didn't lower his head to the sweetness between her legs. That was for later; he wanted to satisfy her, yes, but leave her wanting more. Then she would come back to him. Hellboy focused on that idea and used it to keep his self-control as she surrendered herself to the need of her body, the pounding of his own lust barely held back at the erotic spectacle of her surging up into his hand with a high-pitched cry as she climaxed. The expression on her face–rapture, and he had given her that.

Time passed–he had no idea whether it was seconds or hours–and the next thing he knew, she was unfastening his belt. Surprised, he looked at her. "Joanna..."

"You'll get as good as you gave, Hellboy. I still feel guilty that we didn't finish what we started last night. I would have, but Clay walking in was bad enough. I didn't want to chance that happening with Manning. Can you imagine that?" There was a teasing note in her voice he'd never heard. He started to say something, but then she found his hardness and the power of speech deserted him. "Mmmm. That's gorgeous. Would you lie down on the couch now?"

Was she crazy? Of course he would. Joanna moved off the couch and he took her place, but she didn't kneel beside the couch as he had. She straddled him, one knee on either side of his thighs, and leaned forward on her hands until her lips touched his chest. A deep growl rumbled out of him, and he felt her smile. "That means I'm doing it right?"

"Perfect." He had to suppress a gasp when she took one of his nipples in her mouth and began to suck. Did it feel like that for her? No wonder she liked it. And that was the last coherent thought he had before she used her teeth, just hard enough to send a shock of arousal through him. Nothing but sensation existed for him now. "Just do it. I can't take this any more. Please."

Joanna quickly unfastened his jeans and slid them over his hips. His hardness jutted up at her and she caught her breath. Was she frightened? He tried to say something reassuring, that he would never hurt her, but before he could get the words out her hands were on him, stroking, moving over his length. She hadn't even taken the time to get his jeans all the way off. "Good. Good," he gasped as she took a firmer hold. Beautiful, her hands on him, deft and sure, pale against his crimson. He felt the orgasm building, twice as strong because of his earlier frustration, but nothing would happen this time, no one would interrupt her, oh God, her hands, wonderful, yes, don't stop, then he couldn't hold back one more second as he came with a full-throated roar of pleasure. When he regained his senses, he found himself lying boneless on the couch and gasping for breath. She tried to climb off him, but he pulled her back beside him until she lay down.

They didn't speak for a minute or two, then she lifted her head to look at him. "It's a miracle we don't have half the BPRD in here with their guns drawn."

"Why?" He couldn't care less, but he liked the teasing gleam in her eyes.

"If they didn't hear that all over the complex, they're stone deaf. I'd figure they would think you're being killed."

"You did kill me. I haven't got the strength to sit up. If a monster breaks in, we're both dead meat." A shadow crossed her face, and he mentally kicked himself for reminding her of the job, the need to protect him. But she put her head back down on his chest and he slid his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll have to leave in a little while," she told him. "I have a meeting with Manning in a couple of hours, then I've got to bring you your next meal."

"I look forward to that." He wanted to ask what she was talking to Manning about, but that would ruin the mood, the quiet satisfaction he thought she felt as much as he did, and he wasn't ready to do that. Tomorrow he'd ask Manning for her personnel file, but right now he just wanted to lie with her and pretend there were no secrets. Just for a little while. The real world would come calling soon enough.


	3. Big Empty

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own any of the _Hellboy _characters; not making any money off any of this.

**Summary: **Events before the BPRD team travels to Louisiana .

**Author's Note: **

Just so everyone knows, this story will be ten chapters long, and it's a three-story arc with "Alone Time" being the first story and another story after this one, which is tentatively titled "Tears of Blood." Please pardon the delay in posting this chapter. For the past couple of months I've been stalked & the person who was stalking me broke into my home while I was there sleeping & stole my purse. I've been more than a little upset. Anyway, here it is. I hope the next chapter won't take nearly so long.

apenamee, epalladino, & Cassiopeia1979–thanks for the reviews! Hope you keep reading and enjoying.

Reptilian Goddess–I'm glad you like the way I'm writing Joanna. I do have a John/Liz story in the works right now that might see the light of day in a few weeks (maybe). John is OOC, but that's explained in the story.

Reya Guardian of Azrath–nothing like reviews to keep writers writing!

fallen-angel147–as you no doubt read in the author's note, there's much more to come.

Chapter 3–Big Empty

Seth Garrett was waiting for Joanna at the front gate of the BPRD building that Saturday, astride the Vincent Black Shadow motorcycle that she'd had to leave in New York after the raid. She'd given him some story about an ongoing investigation at the waste-management plant, which he clearly didn't believe, but she didn't have the energy for a more compelling lie. When he saw her walking down the drive toward him, he pulled off his helmet and waved to her. "Hey, Jo," he called as the gate rattled open. "How's the arm doing?"

"It's okay. It's healing." Once again she'd ditched the sling. "Thanks for bringing my bike back. You know it's my baby."

"Hey, nothing but door-to-door service for our rising stars here in the FBI. So where did you want to go for lunch?"

"There's a pretty decent Chinese place downtown. How about that?"

He nodded. "Been a while since I had Chinese. Hop on."

She did, mostly because she knew several security cameras were aimed straight at her and that Hellboy might somehow be watching. Even though she missed driving her bike, it was just better not to give him reason to lecture her about her health. The arm didn't even hurt that much now unless she strained it, but she thought that argument wouldn't hold much water with him. Garrett handed over her own helmet, a lookalike for the one Peter Fonda had worn in _Easy Rider_, and she slipped it on before he turned the motorcycle around and roared off toward downtown Newark.

Conversation was impossible while riding, so Joanna directed him to the restaurant with hand signals and the occasional shouted comment. It took a few minutes to find a parking place, and she wondered how she was going to talk about what was happening to her with him. After she had graduated from the Academy they had gotten friendlier, but no hint of the romantic had ever crept in. Garrett had been more of a father figure to her, in fact more of a father than her own had been. Uncle David had raised her from the age of ten, and she had loved him, but a distance had always existed between them because of what had happened to her mother in Louisiana. She thought he'd blamed her for it, to some degree, but neither of them ever discussed it. Not discussing things was a hallmark of her family.

The hostess had seated them at a banquette with red leather seats and the waitress had taken their drink orders before he mentioned the raid. "We still don't know why Tsai's uncle took a shot at you, Jo. We've interrogated everyone else who was inside the house and they're just as confused as we are. And somehow I don't believe they're lying. Are you sure you don't have any ideas?"

"Not a one," she told him. But she reminded herself to have Uncle David call the asylum in Baton Rouge to make sure her father was still there. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look into whether he had some way of contacting the outside world. How would he have known she was with the FBI, much less that she would be part of the Tsai raid and present him with a convenient opportunity to attack her? Maybe she could ask Clay to do it. She'd be more comfortable with no one knowing, but there was no way she could deal with her father while on a mission. Still, she couldn't handle the feelings of helplessness and anger that welled up. She had to do something.

"So what's going on besides that?"

"Nothing. Why?" He just stared at her. She glanced down at the table and smiled a little. "Is it that obvious?"

"Probably only to someone who really knows you." He fell silent as their waitress returned with two bottles of Tsingtao, the Chinese beer that he favored. When she left, he continued. "Is it the job? I could imagine something getting to you at the BPRD."

"Cannot confirm or deny, etcetera, but it isn't the job." Joanna sighed. "I just don't want you to think any less of me for this." Of course she couldn't tell him anything about Hellboy, but an edited version of the truth might do. She had to speak to someone about this, and, although she loved Liz, she was too close to Hellboy to be objective.

"Jo, you know what I think of you isn't going to change. So out with it."

She took a drag on the bottle of beer before she spoke. "I've gotten involved with someone I work with. It's completely unprofessional and I should be thrown out of the FBI. It's disgraceful."

"You always have been too hard on yourself. We don't encourage workplace romances, but these things happen. We're only human." Then the waitress returned with their orders and Joanna stayed quiet for a few moments, moving her sweet and sour chicken around on the plate. "Tell me what's going on."

"Because of where I work, I can't be really detailed about anything, but the guy I've gotten involved with is sort of my partner."

"Sort of?"

"He's this lone wolf character, likes to do everything himself. The infuriating part is that he really _can_ do everything himself. When I first got assigned to him, I don't think he could stand the sight of me. He didn't need me at all as a partner–still doesn't, really–and I did ask for a transfer once, but our superior talked me out of it." Once again she wondered what had been in Professor Broom's mind. Was this what he had wanted, or would he have been horrified and disgusted? "We worked things out to some degree, so I stayed, but things changed."

"What happened?"

"To make a long story short, we decided to fool around. It's against my better judgment because I know it will affect his fieldwork, but I just couldn't keep saying no." She stopped to take a breath. How could she communicate Hellboy to Garrett when she couldn't talk about him? And she couldn't tell him the reason she had finally said yes.

Three days ago, when Hellboy had asked her if she wanted him to be alone forever, she hadn't been shielding herself from him, and her damned empathy had given her a straight line right into his heart, the depths of loneliness, the longing he felt for her. The feelings had been so strong it had been all she could do to hold on to her composure, but after that her justifications for saying no seemed so flimsy and unworthy that it felt right to abandon her resistance. But the knowledge that she was endangering him still tore at her. She told herself she should resign, but deep down she knew she was too selfish to give him up completely, the way Manning would insist upon if she left the BPRD. So she held herself balanced on a knife edge, reciting her mantra of 'If it affects his fieldwork, it stops.' The upcoming mission would be the real test.

"As I remember, they used to call you Ice Princess at the Academy because you turned down every guy there. Except for Gavin Sands, of course. So I guess you two are officially quits now?"

"Yeah." She hated being reminded of Gavin. It had been a mistake from the word go, but she had been lonely and he had seemed like a nice enough guy, one of her classmates at Quantico who understood what she was going through. Thank God she would never see him again. The last she'd heard, he'd been assigned to the Chicago office, and he could stay there for all she cared. "Although as far as I was concerned, we were quits as soon as we graduated."

He laughed. "What's so special about this new one?"

Joanna bit back a laugh herself. "You would really have to meet him yourself to understand that. He's arrogant and bad-tempered and tactless, but underneath that he's a very sweet guy who doesn't have much experience with women."

"Hardly sounds like your usual type."

That remark would have gotten a warning look and a blistering reply had it been anyone besides Garrett who made it. "I didn't know I had a usual type, but I do see what you mean."

"Think you've lost control, right? You're not acting like a textbook FBI agent? Breaking the rules a little, are we?"

"That's not helping, Seth."

"The hell it isn't. I think this is the best news I've heard about you in quite a while. Ever since the day I met you at Quantico I've been worried about you. You armor yourself in the rules and stifle your emotions as much as you can. That isn't living. If this guy breaks down your walls, you should stay with him, no matter if you're working together or not. You need that, Jo." He set the half-empty beer bottle down and looked her in the eye. "Take the chance. If it goes badly, fine. We all make mistakes. But I don't think this is one."

Joanna set her own bottle, still three-quarters full, carefully down on the table. "Not exactly what I was expecting to hear."

"I won't help you beat yourself up. Is it so hard to go with the flow?"

"Actually, yes, it is." But she laughed when she said it.

The rest of the meal went by without incident, until Garrett looked at his watch and informed her that he had to pick up his rental car and start back to New York. He gave her a brief hug before he got in the rented Saturn. "And you're going to introduce me to your mystery man, sooner or later."

"Probably later," she told him. _Much later, _she told herself as she climbed back on her motorcycle and took off for BPRD headquarters. The freedom of movement on the bike helped calm her, but her mind kept circling around. What would that meeting look like? He was a nice man with an open mind who cared about her, but how would he react to the fact that she was having sex with a demon? Not well, she thought.

Joanna had been inside the main building for less than five minutes when Clay found her. "Red's looking for you."

"What for?"

He shook his head. "Didn't say, but he didn't like your being gone."

Her temper flared at that. "So what? I am entitled to a day off around here every so often. I am a field operative, not a personal servant."

Clay held up his hands. "Take it easy, Myers. Nobody said you were. I think he's just worried about you. You know he can't express these things very well."

Just as suddenly as it had come, her anger drained away, leaving her empty and a little tired. "I'll go down to his quarters and check in."

She started to move past him, but he put his arm in front of her. "Just one question, and I won't mention it again. Do you know what you're doing?"

When she looked at him, Joanna's stomach dropped. He knew, or at least strongly suspected, what had happened between her and Hellboy. How had he figured things out? But she reminded herself Clay wasn't an ex-Secret Service agent and BPRD veteran for his good looks and charm. "I have no idea. I'm playing this by ear."

"Then I'm sorry, Myers. Hope things work out."

"Me too." Straightening her shoulders under her black leather biker's jacket, she headed for Hellboy's quarters.

Her arm had healed enough so that she didn't need help to open the door any more, but doing it still gave her more twinges of pain than she'd admit. Cats surged around her feet and a chorus of mews greeted her as she stepped through and closed the heavy steel door behind her. Hellboy stood on the other side of the room, wearing only a pair of jeans and doing bicep curls with a dumbbell that probably weighed more than she did. A lot like the first time she met him, only now she knew just how those six-pack abs felt beneath her hands and she had personal experience of what was under those jeans. Joanna's mouth went dry at the thought as she set her helmet down on the table. "Hi."

"Hi yourself," he replied. His golden eyes followed her as she took off the biker jacket, its chains jingling as she dropped it over the back of the couch, and moved toward one of the VCRs. Underneath she wore a blue silk tank top that intensified the color of her eyes. "Where have you been?"

"Having lunch with Seth Garrett. He was bringing me my motorcycle today. I think I might have mentioned it. Do you want to watch a movie?" Her fingers drifted over the videos as she looked for something she hadn't seen in a while. One thing you could say about Hellboy–he was a big movie fan. She'd have to convince him to get a DVD player sometime. Maybe _Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. _He was a fan of the genre.

"He's the one that got you shot, right?" The rough edge of his voice told her what he thought of that.

"Well, he did request that I go on the raid. It was my own fault, though. I let my guard down when I thought they had Tsai." Should she say anything about the voice she'd heard? No; if she did, she'd have to explain everything about her past, and she wasn't up to that right now. She could handle it alone.

"Not everything is your fault, Myers." She heard the resounding smash of the dumbbell hitting the floor but didn't turn around. Warmth began pooling in her lower regions. This was the first time she and Hellboy had been alone together since they made their deal. The next day he had insisted to Manning that Clay bring him his meals until her arm healed, and none of her arguments had moved the Director. Her hand paused on the videos, then continued over them as she tried to seem casual. Why was his effect on her so intense? She'd been with two other men in her life, but neither of them had aroused her with so little effort. He hadn't even touched her yet and she was getting turned on. When he stopped behind her, she felt the heat radiating off his body before the stone hand covered her stomach. "Do I need to be worried about him?"

She leaned back against him. "Worried how?" Even she heard the breathlessness in her voice.

His lips touched her neck, so she tilted her head to give him easier access. His mouth moved from her shoulder to her ear, and he whispered, "Does he want you too?"

"No. He's just a friend." Joanna's eyelids drifted closed as he captured the skin of her throat and began to suck. Shivers of pleasure darted through her, as well as the random thought that she'd have to cover that up with foundation tomorrow. Her knees went a little weak, but he was holding her up with his stone hand.

Hellboy's mouth returned to her ear. "Do you want him?"

"God, no." The words left her in a sigh. "I don't want anyone except you."

"Good to know." His left hand dropped to the waistband of her jeans and began unfastening them, while his stone hand stroked up and down her thigh. She had thought, before they'd become intimate, that the touch of his right hand would be painful, or at least uncomfortable, but his gentleness with it surprised her. After all, she'd seen him use it to punch out an SUV, but now it played over her as lightly as his breath on her neck.

An unexpected movement at her back startled her as her tank top began moving upward. "Hellboy, is that your tail?"

"Yeah. Raise your arms." She obeyed, the silk top sliding over her head until he shook it off, leaving her in a dark blue satin bra. Then he curled his tail around her bare waist and she moaned at the touch. "I like your underwear, Myers."

"Stop calling me Myers when we're doing this." But the issue didn't seem very important as the heat from him almost burned against her bare back and his hand slid into her now-unzipped jeans. Her hips rocked back against him as his hand cupped her.

"Take off your pretty underwear, Joanna." His baritone vibrated throughout her body. For a second she actually thought she might faint. She reached around to the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, sliding the straps down her shoulders. He pushed her jeans down her legs until they dropped to her feet, but left her panties where they were. Pressing his fingers against the silk, he began rubbing in circles around her clit and she cried out with the pleasure. She felt a tremor go through him before he said, "Damn, it feels like it's been forever."

"Three–three days," she stammered.

"We shouldn't wait this long again. Makes us both tense." His hand slid away from her. She almost moaned at the loss of contact. "Take off your panties."

Joanna turned around in his arms, difficult with his tail so securely wrapped around her, but she needed to look at him. "Kiss me first."

He brought his head down to her and their mouths met. She was surprised anew that his lips were soft, but thought deserted her pretty quickly as she lost herself in the contact with him, their tongues caressing, entwining, their bare upper bodies pressed together. When they broke the kiss, both of them were gasping. "Now take them off." His voice was a rough purr.

Pushing her sneakers off, she kicked away her jeans and slid off her panties. Hellboy's tail left her waist and slid over her hip, then down the length of her leg. He smiled. "As beautiful as I remember. You want the couch or the bed?"

"The bed. I want to lie down with you."

He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to his bed, flicking the blanket back with a quick motion of his tail before laying her down. Turning her head a little, she noticed the pictures taped to his headboard for the first time. Professor Broom, Clay, Abe–and herself. She didn't even want to think about the implications of that. "Where did you get the picture?"

"Liz." He cut off any further talk on her part by unfastening his jeans and taking them off. The sight of him hit her like a punch in the stomach. Once again she couldn't help but stare. He might not be what anyone would call beautiful, but he was a perfect physical specimen. She reached up for him, but he pushed her hands away. "We're going to go a little slower this time. I didn't get to touch you as much as I wanted." She almost gasped, but held it in. If he thought last time wasn't enough touching...His voice surprised her. "Move over. I want to lie down with you, too."

She did, and he stretched out next to her, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. Hellboy let his eyes roam, then bent and placed a kiss on the thin white line running from the outside corner of her lower lip to the tip of her chin. "How did you get that?"

Instinctively she slammed her mental shields into place, even though he lacked Abe's power to read her mind, and tried to control the stiffening of her muscles. Joanna doubted Hellboy had missed her sudden tension, but she could do nothing except try to bluff her way out of it. She didn't want to lie to him, but she wouldn't tell him everything yet, especially not right now. "Childhood accident," she murmured. As far as it went, it was the truth.

He seemed content with that for the moment, dropping kisses all over her face until she relaxed. Then he drew back and traced the lines of her face with his index finger. "And you wonder why I want to protect you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Never said you couldn't, Girl Scout. I just want to help you do that, from time to time." His touch moved from her face to her neck, then over her upper chest, where he paused at the now-fading bruise. "I don't want that to happen to you again. What would I do if I lost you?"

She put her hand against his cheek. "You won't lose me. But if you did, you'd survive. We rarely die just because someone we care about did." Damn–she'd almost stuck the word 'love' in there. The last thing Hellboy needed was to decide he loved her because they were intimate now. And she couldn't love him because–well, because she was who she was and so she just couldn't. His keeper. How would he look at her if he knew the truth? She never wanted to see that look of disgust, so she would never tell him. It was a kindness not to.

"No. We just want to die." His mouth came down on hers, hard and possessive, and a thrill of need shot through her. Joanna turned on her side so she could press the length of her body against him and returned the kiss equally hard. When he released her mouth, he whispered, "Father gave you to me. I am not going to lose you."

"I said you won't. And I don't know that he'd approve of this."

"Kinda old-fashioned of you, wanting to ask my father's permission first. Shouldn't it be me doing that?"

God, God, God. Why couldn't they stay off the subject? "I wasn't talking about getting your hand in marriage. I was talking about what he'd think of you having sex with me. I admit I didn't know him very well, but he might have thought you deserved somebody better than me."

"She doesn't exist." His hand closed around her breast and he rested his head against her upper chest, his lips brushing the edge of her breast. His breath touched her skin and a wave of goosebumps followed it. Joanna felt the stump of his right horn digging into her collarbone, but somehow it wasn't unpleasant. She had wanted to touch them for a long time, to see what they felt like, but Hellboy was far too sensitive about them to allow that. If he took such offense at her looking at them, she didn't want to think about what he'd do if she actually touched them. They didn't have any sensation, anyway, as his continued use of the sander on them proved. She settled for tracing the outline of his pointed ear with her index finger, which brought a soft growl from him.

He shifted and his lips locked onto her nipple. The furnace heat of his mouth made her groan and try to push more of her breast into his mouth. His fingers toyed with her other nipple and she began writhing against him. Hellboy trailed kisses down her stomach, then slid his hand between her thighs and pushed them apart. He began making tiny circles around her clit again and she lost the thread of her thoughts. Then thought deserted her completely as he exerted more pressure on her clit and waves of pleasure burned her from head to foot. Her hips arched up toward him, silently pleading for more. She managed to open her eyes and the expression on his face hypnotized her–the intensity of his concentration, the clear fascination with her body and its responses. Then every muscle in her body stiffened as the release took her and she stuffed a fist into her mouth to stifle her scream.

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled it away. "Don't do that. I like to hear you. It excites me."

"I doubt if it would excite everybody else working here." She allowed him to pull her on top of him and bring her face down until their mouths locked in a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips clung to his as she lifted her head, the hint of a smile curving them. "Got something to show you, Hellboy."

"Will I like it?" His lips twitched with the grin he was trying to suppress.

"I'm almost sure you will. Just lie back and relax." He did what she said, folding his arms behind his head and watching her as she planted a series of tiny kisses over his chest, here and there lapping with her tongue like a kitten. Joanna didn't know how well he felt that, considering the toughness of his skin, but he seemed to enjoy watching her do it. His lower body displayed its enthusiasm, anyway. She shook her head and let her long hair trail over his chest and stomach, and this he did seem to feel, because he drew in his breath sharply and started to reach for her. "No, no," she murmured, pushing his hands away until he replaced them behind his head. "We haven't even gotten to the really good part."

"Why do I get the idea this is going to test my patience?"

"Who knows?" Joanna said before nipping lightly at his abdominal muscles. He hissed in response and arched against her. A new wave of arousal washed over her. It was so difficult not to give in, do what she wanted and just straddle him, fuck his brains out, but that would be too official, too serious, so she settled for what she'd wanted to do the first time she'd touched him.

She moved her head until her hair swirled around his cock, brushing it over and over like silk blown by the wind, then she pushed her hair back and leaned forward to run her tongue up its length. His whole body jerked at the sensation.

"Take it easy." She brushed her lips against its head, the tip of her tongue darting out for a quick flick. Hellboy's thigh muscles tensed under her hands. The feeling of him, the iron of muscle under his skin, and knowing that this was because of her, because of what she was doing to him, excited her to the depths of her soul.

"Are you sure you want to–"

"Yes." Lightly she moved her fingers along his length. God, but he was big. Gripping him with her right hand, she took him into her mouth and was rewarded by a growl of pleasure that went right through her, from the crown of her head to her toes. For just a second she wondered if he could make her come just by growling, then pushed that thought aside to concentrate on what she was doing. She couldn't take all of him in her mouth, so she wrapped her hand around the shaft and made a few preliminary up-and-down movements, which he seemed to like, if his sounds were any indication. Joanna circled her tongue around the head several times, until his hips moved in rhythmic jerks, then she settled down.

He groaned and ran his normal hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. "I want to see you...want to watch you doing that. God!"

She slid her mouth off him, but kept her grip. It twitched in her hand and she rubbed her thumb along the underside. Her blue eyes met his golden ones. "Feel good, Hellboy?"

"God, yes. Don't stop."

He wouldn't be able to last much longer, but teasing him would make it more intense. "Are you sure you want me to finish this?" But Joanna saw he was beyond any wisecracks or snappy comebacks, on fire with his need, and decided to finish it. "Don't worry. I promise I won't stop until you do." A drop of white fluid had appeared on the tip, and she licked at it, along with the next one and the one after that. By now his groaning had escalated to near-roars and his right hand had clenched into a fist so hard she heard the stone of his fingers scraping together. Aching herself, she took as much of his cock into her mouth as she could without gagging and began sucking hard, moving with the rhythm of his hips. His left hand fisted in her hair and his body bucked up, trying to drive himself further into her mouth, but her hand around the base of his cock kept him from choking her with it. Joanna looked up at his face. He was looking straight at her when his eyes clamped shut and his entire body tensed as he climaxed, shouting her name. _I'm your first, _she thought with no small degree of satisfaction. _First kiss, first hand job, first blow job. _When had she gotten possessive of him? The thought disturbed her, so she remained silent as he opened his arms to her and she curled up next to him in his big bed.

"It was a test of patience," he murmured against her hair.

Joanna rubbed her hand over his chest and pulled a thin blanket over them. "Wake me up before Clay's due with your next meal." She knew he didn't like that, but he respected her wishes for now. As the afterglow dimmed, her worries about the upcoming mission returned. What if he did protect her too much and forgot about the mission? How could she stand to break things off, or, worse, leave him? But she would have to if that happened. She fell asleep with her worries intact.

The BPRD team had borrowed a Chinook transport helicopter from an airbase in New Jersey and, except for a refueling stop in Tennessee, they'd been in the air all day. The mansion near Carrefour that they were renting had a very large clearing adjacent to it that would serve as a natural landing pad, so theoretically the helicopter could come and go without attracting much notice from the townsfolk. Branches of the Special Forces held training exercises in the swamp sometimes, so observers might dismiss it.

The chopper's blades beat loudly enough to drown out conversation, so Joanna was spared the burden of small talk with Manning, Liz, Clay, or any of the other BPRD agents who crowded the helicopter. Silence suited her better, anyway, plus it gave her more time to think.

Abe and Hellboy traveled the way they usually did on missions, in a couple of crates so that they could be moved from the Chinook to the house without any snoopers taking notice. Joanna wished for a moment that Hellboy were sitting next to her, even if she couldn't speak to him. When he was near her she felt calmer, and the closer they got to Carrefour the more anxiety clogged her throat. She closed her eyes and tried to meditate for a few minutes, then gave up. The only subject of thought that soothed her even a little was Hellboy. In the days before they left for Louisiana she'd spent as much time with him as she could and had started eating her meals with him in his room, but she still refused to spend the night there. That would be a commitment she wasn't sure she was ready to make, and leading him on wouldn't be fair to him. The idea that she might break his heart was intolerable. So they kept up the fiction of a purely professional relationship, although Clay had figured out the truth and she was sure Liz suspected. How long before it was common knowledge all over the Bureau? If they broke up, or possibly as soon as he found out, the Director would either fire her or transfer her, and she would never see Hellboy again. How long would he miss her before moving on to someone else?

Joanna held no illusions about herself. She was attractive, but not the beauty that Liz was. She was smart, excepting her involvement with Hellboy, but no genius. The one thing she did take pride in was her fighting skills. Martial arts had been the sole outlet for her pain and fury when she had first come to live with Uncle David in Coeur d'Alene, and she had kept up her studies faithfully. She held a black belt now, and with her Quantico training, she thought there weren't a lot of people who could take her hand-to-hand. The other things, the psychic disciplines, she brushed aside as necessary, nothing more. They kept her father out of her dreams and out of her mind. Until the Tsai raid, she'd had no contact with him in over twenty years.

Thinking of him gave her chills. She hit the send button on the modified walkie-talkie the team used and said, "Red? This is Girl Scout."

He answered at once. "Everything okay up there?"

Joanna sensed he wanted to know if she was all right. Something relaxed inside her. "Fine. Just checking on you."

He chuckled, sending a thrill of memory through her that she hoped no one noticed. Just a fleeting thought of his hands on her, his voice whispering in her ear as she writhed with pleasure, was enough to arouse her. Hellboy would not want to stay away from her for the duration of the mission, she knew. Although she didn't like the idea any better than he did, she couldn't think of a way for them to be together without getting caught. "I'd be more comfortable up front with the rest of you, but I'm used to it. Nothing to worry about."

"We should reach Carrefour in about an hour."

"Thanks for the update, Girl Scout. Give a yell if you need anything."

"Will do. Girl Scout out."

Talking to him calmed her enough so she could meditate. When she heard a crackle over the walkie-talkie and opened her eyes, they were ten minutes away from Carrefour. Abe's voice reached her ear. "Blue here. Have the pilot fly over the town before we set down at the mansion."

Manning signaled for the whole team to listen. ""Why do you want to do that? That'll compromise our security setup."

A long moment of dead air followed. "I feel something very strange coming from the direction of Carrefour, even stranger than the last time I was here. Please alter course so I can get a better idea of what's going on."

The Director didn't like it, but he moved into the cockpit and had a short conversation with the pilot. Joanna felt adrenalin beginning to pump through her system. Whenever Abe sensed something, that meant trouble was close by. Unconsciously she checked the Browning in its shoulder holster. Bullets didn't often kill paranormal menaces, but sometimes they did slow a monster down. All the other agents aboard the Chinook started making their own battle preparations. She hoped none of them would die but knew it was a forlorn hope. _We're the cannon fodder, _she thought, _the distractions that clear the way for Hellboy and Abe and Liz to take the creatures out. The Bureau goes through us like a rock star goes through groupies. _How many other agents had she seen die since she got here? Too many to count in missions she retained only the vaguest memories of, all the monsters blending together into a seamless tapestry of horror. It was one reason she kept to herself. Making attachments was too painful when the person who'd become your friend got eaten by some other-dimensional carnivore. She had to do her job, no matter what Hellboy or Manning said: protect him if Clay couldn't and serve as a distraction. Whether she lived or died could not be a mission concern.

When they reached Carrefour, the pilot put the chopper into a slow banking turn and made a wide circle over the town. Joanna saw Manning put his walkie-talkie to his ear and listen carefully before speaking to the entire team. "From what the pilot can see," he began, "the town is deserted. Nobody home. We're going to land in the town square and have a look around. Red, you and Blue can come out when we're sure the area is secured and no civilians are around. Any questions?"

Joanna had a few. Manning's plan seemed much too high-risk for her tastes. Landing in the middle of town–standard operating procedure was to land outside town and send three fire teams to sweep Carrefour for survivors before showing a big agency presence. If the danger was mundane, like drug dealers or some dangerous cult, if they landed in town they'd be sitting ducks for automatic weapons fire. And if it was paranormal, as Abe's reaction indicated, the sitting ducks thing still applied. "Are we sure it isn't a mundane attack, like poison gas?" That would be perfect: everyone dropping like cockroaches because they stepped into a low-hanging cloud of sarin gas or its like.

"If the attack had been a conventional one, we'd see dead bodies in the streets, crashed cars, maybe dead animals. There's none of that. Carrefour looks perfectly in order, except that there's not a person around, living or dead, it seems. Any other questions?"

She hesitated, then remained silent. Manning knew too much about her for her comfort and could betray her past at any given moment. While Joanna didn't think he was as much of an asshole as Hellboy did, she did not trust him enough to take a chance on angering him and the whole business coming out.

None of the other agents had any questions. Liz looked a bit nervous, which was understandable. This would be the first real mission she'd been on since the whole Rasputin affair. _I may only be an observer on this one, but I'll make sure she doesn't get hurt. Not like in Russia. _Joanna trusted Clay to protect Hellboy when she couldn't. His face was set in the familiar Bureau deadpan as he checked his sidearm, taking a moment to whisper something to Liz that apparently comforted her. Couldn't be anything happening there, could it? She made a mental note to talk to Liz later.

Then the chopper began its descent into Carrefour. She tried to control her breathing. No guarantee that they'd be attacked as soon as they landed. No guarantee of immediate danger at all. But her body wasn't reassured and continued to prepare for a fight as the Chinook set down


End file.
